Migraines and Roses
by Ekaphant
Summary: They always thought Vallejo hated Valentine's Day. They'll never know any better. Vallejo never really thought about February the 14th as anything but another work day, until an unexpected discovery uncovers memories of the past... (oneshot)


For those of you randomly hoping that this is my long-awaited sequel to The Scales Tipped, er, sorry. Nope. But rest assured that I'm working on it now, and it should be up before the end of March (it's only a long one-shot, hope you weren't expecting anything too elaborate). Anyway, this was written as a response the the Valentine's Day Fanfiction Challenge posted on Hope you like.

Migraines and Roses

Migraines. They're the worst. A headache is a constant, steady pain that, although hurting, somehow manages to become less obtrusive as time wears on. Eventually you just get used to it being there. Sure is makes you grumpy, but it doesn't drive you insane. Migraines, though. Those kill. They're a throbbing, driving force inside your head. They don't fade to the background; they demand all of your attention. Alls you can hear is the pounding of the drum inside your skull, and everything else is drowned out. Migraines don't make you irritable; migraines make you downright fuming angry at anything that moves.

Vallejo had a migraine.

Despite the pain in his head, though, he wasn't deaf. Or dumb, for that matter. He knew outside his firmly shut office door the Safety Patrol Officers were muttering about his grouchiness, complaining about the way he'd yelled at them to put away the chocolates and Valentine's cards, to get back to work. They'd be joking about the way he apparently despised Valentine's Day, that he never had a girlfriend, that he didn't know the meaning of the word 'love', that if he ever married anyone her name would probably be 'Job'. He was too serious, he didn't know how to relax, he was incapable of taking a joke, the word 'fun' wasn't in his vocabulary… He'd heard it all.

But the only thing he could hear right now was the pounding in his head, and if making the Officers put away their silly little cards with hearts and glitter shut them up a bit, all the better. He needed the silence, or else his skull was going to split in two. Sure, he didn't really go in for all the Valentine's nonsense, but that wasn't the reason he cracked down on everyone out in the main office. Honestly, it was like someone was repeatedly bringing an axe down on his head! He needed the silence that shutting them all up brought.

It wasn't like Valentine's Day was that big a deal anyway. It wasn't a national holiday, it was just a number on a day on a calendar. Just another work day, nine to five, including the typical two hours of overtime he pushed every afternoon. Paperwork, unruly officers, phone calls from Folsom. Fuel enough for a migraine. But today, February the 14th, had the added hassles of cards and chocolates and flowers and lace. Not to mention those singing telegrams. Three of them had come into HQ already, and if another stepped through the door they were probably wouldn't be exiting it on their own two feet. Annoying, the lot of it; just another commercial holiday meant to make you spend your money.

Aspirin. Now there was something worth buying. Vallejo opened the top drawer of his desk where he always kept a bottle of the stuff handy. Of course, just to make his day more miserable than it already was, the bottle seemed to be missing. With a short, frustrated sigh, he proceeded to dig under papers and feels his way to the back of the drawer. He knew it was in there somewhere! After a minute of shuffling things around, his hand finally closed around the sought item at the very rear of the drawer. But there was something else back there too, something odd and prickly. He pulled both things out together.

The first item, as Vallejo well knew, was the bottle of aspirin. Happily, there were still a good number of little pills shaking around inside it. But the second item took him by surprise. It was a rose. A dried, brown, brittle rose.

If it was possible to forget that you had a migraine, Vallejo did it then. There were no questions in his mind about where the rose came from or how it had ended up in his desk. He knew the answers to those both. The only things that surfaced in his mind then were memories and a name.

"Malika."

He'd never known anyone so bright. How was it possible to be as clever as Malika? He never thought he'd see her type again until Third walked through the doors of X. But even then, there was something about Malika that even Third didn't have. What was it? Maybe it was the fact that Malika was such a strong leader. Sure, Third had the makings of one, but she was more content where she was now. She wasn't the type who would seize power for herself. Malika was. If she could take charge, she would, and she loved it when she did. Control. It was something she thrived on, and something she maintained quite well.

But there were more differences between the two of them than that, weren't there?

Malika was never in lack of respect when she was in charge. Everyone under her, in the clubs she ran and in the Safety Patrol, they all looked up to her an admired her. But Malika gave back to them as much respect as they gave to her. Maybe that was different now. But it was true enough then.

Vallejo always loved watching her in action. She was always so enthusiastic and energetic about everything she did. But she wasn't girly, she took things seriously. Maybe he loved that more. The way her voice sounded when she took that no-nonsense tone in the interrogation room, the spark of determination that would glint in her eye as they chased down a criminal, that small smile that would tweak the corner of her lips when she'd cornered someone into a confession. All of it was as fresh in his memory as if it had happened yesterday.

The times they would joke together, after everyone else had left the office for home. She would pick on him for being too tightly wound, and he would accuse her of being bossy. The way they were both so in tune with each other when working on a case that they could read each read the others mind and finish the others sentences. The times that they would stay up late, eating pizza and shooting down each others angles on "who did it". They were more than partners, even if their relationship was centered on their jobs. They were friends.

Then she went undercover with the Red Robins.

That was one week before Valentine's Day. Malika was supposed to come into HQ every couple of days after school to give a progress report before she went home. Vallejo bought her a rose that year. His plan was to pull her aside after she had finished with her report and give it to her. It wasn't very well thought out, to be honest, given how shy a guy he could be, but it didn't matter in the end. Malika never showed. The next morning, February 15th, Vallejo came into the office to find her sash and badge on his desk. No explanation, no good-bye. With those two gestures, she was gone.

The rose he'd gotten for her was still hidden in his desk drawer, where he'd put it the day before to keep it out of sight. Pushing the badge and sash aside, he'd taken it out to look at it a moment. Something stopped him, though, from putting it in the garbage. He replaced it carefully in his desk drawer instead.

Vallejo's reverie was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of his telephone. Without hesitation, he picked it up on the second ring. "Vallejo. Yes, Principal Folsom. I'll be right there."

As he rose from his chair, he glanced at the withered rose lying on his desk. He paused for a moment, then gently put it back in the drawer. Gulping down two aspirin with a mouthful of water, Vallejo tramped out into the main office. At the sight of him, more than one Safety Patroller scuttled to hide a box of chocolates or a lacey card. With one commanding yell for them all to get back to work, Vallejo slammed the door of HQ and made his way down to Principal Folsom's office.

"Who needs Valentine's Day anyway."


End file.
